Sunday, October 10, 2010

OESB's only avant-metal band from Boise, Idaho is currently on a U.S. tour. Formerly known as PussyGutt and recently re-christened as Wolvserpent - the duo of Blake Green and Brittany McConnell will be playing tonite in Far Rockaway, Queens. Above is their set from last Tuesday night at Acheron in Brooklyn. Courtesy Torsten of Unartig - lots of excellent live footage at his website. Wolvserpent's new album on 20-Buck Spin is streaming HERE & for the uninitiated there's some reviews below of the first two PussyGutt lp's on OESB (there's still a handful of copies of each over at the OESB store).

A mysterious duo from Idaho, here expanded to a trio, offer up 4 sidelong tracks of damaged and mysterious outsider doomdrone on the always reliable Olde English Spelling Bee label. We weren't too sure what to expect, and we missed their performance here a few months back unfortunately, but just have a gander at the list of instruments: bass, violin, crystal goblet, tractor, forest samples, clay pots, tubular bells, organ, synth, gong, drums, bowed cymbals, guitar, sound manipulations, electronics, LEAD guitar, amplifiers and feedback. Those last few are your first clue that this isn't just any old drone record. Although the first few minutes had us fooled. A gorgeous expanse of shimmering low end, glistening harmonics, and a soft distant doomic plod, little bits of static and hiss, a slow slithering blackness, which eventually builds to a stumbling groovy doom jam, with big boomy practice space drums, some seriously downtuned riffage and thick swirls of Hawkwind-ed FX, that lopes and lurches until it fades out into a long slowly unwinding smear of softly buzzing bass.

The second side is a sprawling heavy industrial soundscape of collaged sounds, wind, that tractor mentioned above, all looped and layered, clanging percussion, everything constantly shifting and changing shape, a dark meandering journey through a black forest of sound, a bit like Nurse With Wound meets Wolf Eyes, a chunk of surreal dark ambience, haunting and ominous and while not heavy per se, still distinctly doomy...

The second lp begins with creepy gypsy violins (one of the band members is a classically trained violinist) over a back drop of creaks and moans, a sort of haunted house mood music, beneath abstract riff fragments and random bits of effects building into a slowcore crawl, a mellow doom, each note ringing out and drifting off before the next one hits. Doomy, funereal, soft focus, with those strings a constant presence, super dark and emotional, adding a weirdly cinematic element to Pussygutt's sound.

The final side is another doomy crawl, distant drums, massive slow motion slabs of downtuned guitar, very simple and hypnotic, dark and creepy, not so much heavy as moody and intense, finishing off with a harrowing Hitchcockian string outro which gives way to the sounds of the forest, birds and wildlife, all coming to life beneath the full moon...

LIMITED TO 550 COPIES. Each one hand-assembled copies. Packaged in heavy-duty gatefold sleeves with four spraymounted panels that were custom offset-printed on silver stock with two coats of black ink for extra darkness, so much black ink in fact that, it almost makes your eyes water. Maybe a few huffs inside the sleeve will better prepare you for the mind altering weirdness inside...

Despite my undying love for the Virgin Prunes and the sporadic donning of black eyeliner before I head down to the local Key Foods, I'm not that 'dark' of a guy. Although I'm obviously down with the drone, Sunn and all their followers never made sense to me. It just seemed they took a great sound and dumbed it down for metalers and other mouth breathing types by adding alotta horseshit to it. Whenever I see a black record cover with silver ink, I usually fall asleep by the time I have a chance to laugh at the band name and/or record title. Hey...whatever floats your rod in the water and puts asses in the seats, I guess.

When and if I do throw some sounds on in this bunker these days, it's usually something I'm familiar with and/or something that doesn't require too much listener/sound participation. Alittle A.F. when the tub needs a hard scrub, some Dusty when some wine is being sipped and spilled, etc. New vibrations don't get too much spin time 'round here, but once in awhile someone will slip me something they think I'd like and I throw it on and by god, they're right to think I'd dig it. Such is the case with this double LP entitled 'Sea of Sand', a collaborative effort between Boise, Idahos' Pussygutt and Seattles' Story of Rats. I was firstly taken with how beautiful the package was. A jet black gatefold with paste-on artwork that must of been glued on by the most OCD person in the universe; totally immaculate. The sounds that take up both these slabs are certainly heavier than a two ton turd, but it's an effortless vibration that seems to just naturally permeate from the sound. The first record in the set sounds like it was one continuous jam spread out between the sides. For most of it, the amps humm and purr as if they themselves (not the humans in the room) are actually waiting for the riffs and drums to kick in. When they do show themselves, they're perfectly brief and direct and burrow back into the clouds of roar to await their next outing. Since I didn't look at the clock once while both of these sides heaved mighty grey smoke from their surfaces, I'm supposing this record must be good.

An actual violin played like it actually should be played opens Side C while field recordings of dry leaves crunch off in the distance. Somewhere down the line (Once again, I lost track of time) strings ring open and randomly hang/float, making me think more of the Dead C. than former members of False Liberty in bathrobes. Side D is heavy, slow and minimal but in a pretty engaging way. It might be that my ears are tuned differently, but when I hear this slow sludgy thing done right, I envision the songs that closed out both Infest 7"s going on forever like I wished them to all those years ago. Somewhere in all the strumming and clanging, in comes the ringing of bells and the quacking of ducks in the far distance and the record is over.

It's been awhile since I've actually got lost in a record; let alone a double set. These people have actually put together a record that's an experience; something you can't just make the bed and sweep the floor to. Put it on, sit down and take it in, chief. P.S.—Do not handle this cover after the eating of greasy foods. You'll just ruin it.

The return of Pussygutt, a male/female duo from Idaho, who traffic in slow brooding black ambience and ultra doom, and whose last two records have been huge favorites around here, which makes sense as we really can't get enough of sidelong tracks, and sprawling expansive stretches of slow rumbling drones, and minimal slabs of blackened doomic crawl, and gathering Strengths does NOTHING to disappoint, offering up a single two part track, spread out over two sides, beginning with what sounds like oboes or some sort of woodwind (it's in fact a clarinet), long layered tones, emitting endless overtones, laid atop a barely there bit of low end rumble, strange melodies emerging from the constantly shifting layers, eventually joined by mysterious strings, chiming bells, super cinematic and soundtracky, and yet another instance of 'why don't these guys score movies', the music sublime and emotional, not what you'd expect necessarily, slowly building in intensity, until finally, the hammer falls, and a black cloud of rumbling doom descends, hardly overwhelming, but instead wrapping around those keening strings, creating a haunting otherworldly bit of black doom chamber music.

The flipside starts off a bit folkier, shimmering drones drift over simple hand drums, the melodies simple and melancholy, a muted firelit psychfolk, smoldering and dreamlike, eventually building to something much more epic and intense, never exploding into a frenzy of doom, or exploding at all, instead, just hovering, and ratcheting up the tension, again, totally cinematic and dramatic, like some timeless ritual being performed by cloaked figures gathered before a fire, while in the background cities crumble and the sky turns to ash.

Intense, and intensely beautiful. LIMITED TO 550. Each one hand numbered, and housed in super striking, silkscreened heavy sleeves.